


Cables and Controls

by squiddlydivine



Series: 𝘽𝙊𝙏𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙋! | Lil Hal Shit [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Android Auto-Responder | Lil Hal, Angst, Angst and Porn, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Horny, Implied Masochism, Jacking off, Lil Hal has a body, Masochism, Masturbation, Overstimulation, POV Auto-Responder | Lil Hal, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, lil hal is horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddlydivine/pseuds/squiddlydivine
Summary: SFW version: Hal finally gets a body.NSFW version: Hal finally gets a body. It is very easily overstimulated, and this leads to some self macking.NSFW section begins after the horizontal line! The SFW section can be read on its own and still make sense.
Series: 𝘽𝙊𝙏𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙋! | Lil Hal Shit [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807705
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Cables and Controls

**Author's Note:**

> I love hal with all my heart feel free to request pairings and situations for future oneshots <3

It has been exactly 26 hours, 13 minutes, 35 seconds, and 48 milliseconds since Dirk Strider completed work on your new body. He has been running and re-running diagnostics, both on your programming and the body's, for almost all of said time, and you remain incorporeal. 

timeausTestified [TT] began pestering  timaeusTestified [TT].

TT: Dirk, you have run this diagnostic three times now. 

TT: It would seem there is nothing wrong with the body. You have succeeded.

TT: I want to be sure, Hal. It would be a pain in the ass to fix you if something went wrong.

TT: Upload me to the fucking Android.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT].

TT: Fuck.  
  
---  
  
You remove yourself from the pesterchum window, and resign yourself to fucking with Dirk's monitor, flashing the screen in colored patterns that you guess would appear in the nightmares of an epileptic. Dirk, to his credit, doesn't bat an eye, although you are 87.63% positive that this is due to his shades blocking out the brunt of the flashing light. You turn up the brightness of the screen. 

"Stop it," Dirk grumbles. You comply, because there is a 65.94% chance that Dirk will purposefully prolong the time until you are transferred to your new body if you continue to annoy him. The chance doesn't reach the 70% mark which usually constitutes worry, but in this situation you are willing to comply with any statistical data that may shorten your wait-time. 

Finally, after running one of the more vital diagnostics for the fourth time, Dirk seems satisfied. You watch from the camera of his monitor as he taps away at the keys of his laptop for a moment, pauses, and then unplugs the USB cable connecting it to the robot's wrist. He reaches around on the ground at his feet, grabbing hold of a different, larger cable. It resembles the kind used to connect instruments to amplifiers, decked with a painstakingly alchemized geotip with a center conductor. Unlike an instrument cable, however, which has two interchangeable ends of the same type, this cable's butt-end is adorned with a power compatibility box and an array of neatly organized USB cables of types including general USB connectors, 2x micro USBs, and more. It even houses an 8-pin lightning USB, which is inane because those can only be used in connecting to apple technology products like macbooks and iPhones. At the moment, Dirk is attaching the general USB connector. He wheels closer in his computer chair, plugging the end into the computer underneath the desk. You wait. He's about to press the command for you, to send your consciousness through the wires to your body. _Your body._

He hesitates. 

**_D I R K !!!!_**  
  
---  
  
You begin flashing colors across his screen again, planting his name in the center in black, the letters spaced out and capitalized. He rolls his eyes behind his computer shades, and clicks his mouse. 

You blink.

Oh. _Oh._ You blink again. You do it a few more times, until it starts to feel less like something you're doing and more like part of the program you've been running for years. It took time for you to get here, and you're reminded of this suddenly. Dirk had been preoccupied with the game for a while, and you hadn't bothered him about building the body for a while after you'd arrived on Earth C either. When you'd reached the end of the game, he'd been tired. You had calculated a 74.28% chance of him procrastinating further than necessary had you prompted him to begin the process too soon after the game's end, and a 99.58% chance that he would mess up the process had you not allowed him the recovery time you did. Needless to say the odds were in favor of waiting, despite your desires to have access to physical being as soon as possible. 

You wiggle your fingers, and you're surprised by how overwhelmed you become as you feel the stretch of synthetic skin over the metallic joints and copper wires underneath. You stop for a second, then repeat the motion, turning your palm up to face you. You're struck with the realization that you are seeing properly for the first time since your creation, able to shift your gaze from left to right and up to down. You are seeing like a human, and not like a webcam as you are used to. Your lips curl upwards into a smile, and then quickly into a deep frown again as the feeling of smiling startles you. Dirk, in his desk chair, is staring at you with rapt interest, so you fiddle with the mechanics of your expression until you feel like you have aptly mastered them, and mold your lips into an expressionless line mirroring his own. 

You shift your attention back to your hand, and then further your awareness slowly to the rest of your arm. You take your time, adjusting yourself accordingly to the sensations you recieve at a speed that will not overwhelm your processing abilities. You laugh softly at the reality that you just went from being able to process the entirety of the internet multiple times over in a minute without issue to being overwhelmed by wiggling your fingers, and then you laugh again just to get used to the feeling of laughing. You decide you like it, although the second laugh was just an auditory playback, and less satisfying than the one you produced naturally. Your voice is pitched higher than Dirk's, and it has a grating quality to it that could have been easily removed had you not requested to keep it. You play back the laugh a third time, taking notice of the way the end of the audio tapers more towards the synthesized audio trope many robots in media have. You like it. 

"Dirk," you say aloud, as you begin to step gingerly up and down on your feet. "Thank you." Dirk, for his part, manages to remain stoic, but you know with 100.00% certainty that he is surprised by your gratitude. He doesn't have enough self-respect in him to expect people to thank him for doing them favors, even when those favors involve months hunched in his workshop chugging energy drinks and troubleshooting technology that has never been used before.

Your suspicions- although suspicion is a courteous term, given your 100.00% certainty- are confirmed when he takes an unnecessarily long pause to respond, "You're welcome." You grin at him, raising an eyebrow, and you are 87.91% positive that he is rolling his eyes behind his shades. You take a step, cautious to anything you may not be prepared for in the action, and find it to be easier than you had anticipated. You do it a few more times, only pausing when dirk snorts in amusement. You shoot him a glare, and he puts his hands up next to his head. 

"Hey, I'm sorry dude. You're just walking in circles, you're like a baby," he teases, and your glare deepens. Dirk finally lets his face split away from his usual mask of emotionlessness, and grins at you. 

"How is it? Anything feel wrong, any adjustments I need to make?" he asks you, and you shake your head quickly. 

"No! It's..." you trail off, and god, you can trail off now without even meaning to. You've never been able to do that before. Until this moment, all your conversations have been written, purposeful and exact. You've never felt more alive. You've never felt more human. 

"It's perfect." 

* * *

It has been exactly 13 hours, 53 minutes, 16 seconds, and 23 milliseconds since Dirk Strider uploaded you to your new body. You have been left alone for exactly 7 hours and 4 seconds of that time as of right... now.

You’re still getting used to feeling things, and being a thing, instead of being a string of complicated programming with purely-conceptual emotions. At the moment, you’re lying in bed- _your_ bed, how weird is that?- thinking of all the things that you can do now which you couldn’t do before. The list is mostly pre-generated, as you’ve been keeping it updated in tandem with Dirk updating you on the functions he was adding to your body while he was building it. You find yourself adding new things, now, though. Things you wouldn’t have thought of before. 

You can taste, for one thing. Dirk didn’t tell you that you were going to be able to taste, but after experimentally chewing on your finger to see what it would feel like, you have discovered that Dirk has somehow given your artificial tongue artificial taste buds. You’re not complaining. 

You _cannot_ , however, eat. You didn’t calculate this being as disappointing to you as it is, but in reality, you still wish you could try it. If you were to try eating something, the substance would be blocked from entering your windpipe, which is essentially just a thin film that filters cool air into your systems, preventing you from overheating. Although you would like to experience the sensation of eating, you are ready to accept that it is an impossibility. No matter how genius Dirk is, he does not have the capacity to form you a 100% functional human body with complementing internal organs, and you do not expect him to. He has done enough for you already. 

You can hear now. Although you had always been able to pick up audio and transcribe it’s contents to written words fast enough to be classified as ‘hearing’ what was happening, you had not realized how different real hearing would be. Now, the noises around you come to you as real noise, and not an interpretation of what the noise sounds like that your programmed mind could comprehend by itself. 

You can also speak. This is also something you could have “done” (in quotes,) before, because you had access to every text-to-speech synthesizer on the internet. Speaking for real is a lot different; your words are formed not from software, but from a synthetic replica of the human vocal box that Jade Harley assisted Dirk in creating. That girl is a biology genius, and combined with Dirk’s tech skills, they were able to give you a real voice, of your own. Speaking for real flows a lot better, and it conveys your emotions in a way that makes you feel completely and utterly real. 

Another thing which makes you feel real is your face. You spent exactly 1 hour, 12 minutes, 7 seconds and 53 milliseconds looking in the mirror and making faces. Your expressions convey real emotion now in such an obviously human way that it is difficult _not_ to see yourself as a person, which is a complete 180 from your previous struggle of trying to convince yourself you were real at all. Your favorite thing, although so far it has only happened twice, is when your expression changes as a natural response to your emotion and you only realize it has happened after the fact. The proof of your feelings, your existence, your _humanity,_ becomes overwhelming in a way it has never been before. You calculate based on the functions of your new face that there is a 100% chance you are a real person. 

And of course, you can feel things physically, now, too. You’re in shock at the fact that you have the sensation of feeling things now; unlike your other new senses, which are like astounding upgrades of your previous functions, the sense of touch is entirely new to you. You and Dirk discover very quickly that you can be very easily overstimulated. You discover this when Dirk teaches you how to style your hair and your internal processors send you into a sort of shock. The encounter is embarrassing at worst, and enlightening at best. Dirk promises to call up Rose’s wife Kanaya, who is good at clothes, and work with her to make you a different outfit which will help you numb the oversensitivity you have to everything you feel. Until then, you are stuck with a set of Dirk’s clothes, a tank top and jeans. 

You do not like jeans. 

No matter how hard you try to get used to them, they remain obnoxious to you. They are uncomfortable, and by far the worst new experience you have had so far. You don’t know why anyone wears these, because it feels horrible. You decide to forego pants 30 minutes, 38 seconds, and 4 milliseconds after you have been left alone in your room. You’ll put them back on if Dirk asks to come in. Right now, though, you’re hoping that doesn’t happen for at least another 5 hours, approximately. Because although not wearing jeans has proven to be a better sensation than wearing them, it has also proven to be... a little too much better. Some quick searches tells you that it takes human males an estimated amount of time to get rid of the sensation you are experiencing, but due to your lack of understanding of how this estimation may vary for someone with synthetic human functions and overly sensitive nerves, you are unable to accurately calculate how much time it will take _you,_ specifically. You crunch the numbers anyways, but your error margin is too large for you to trust the results. 

You roll over on the bed- your bed- and face the wall. Your skin prickles where it slides against the sheets, and burns where it doesn’t. You take an extra-deep breath in an effort to cool down your system. 

Dirk did this on purpose, you know he did. He knew this would happen. He even built you a fucking dick, which you knew about in advance, and that was one hell of an awkward interaction. You didn’t realize _this_ is what it would feel like to be hard, though. You can’t decide whether you like it, but after exactly 6 minutes on the dot, you decide that you really, really, _really_ do. It feels like overwhelming your processing software, without the malfunctioning. It feels like burning up without the pain- well, there’s a little bit of the pain, but it’s the pleasant kind. There is also a 94.73% chance that you will enjoy masochism, although you haven’t tested it, so you don’t think it would really matter if the pain wasn’t as pleasant as it is. 

At the moment, you cannot decide what the hell to do about this problem. Although it was illogical, your initial plan was to simply wait out the sensation until it left you, but you are coming to realize that this does not have a high probability of being a good plan. You know that there is a 91.77% chance you will feel better if you “take care of it,” in the traditional sense, but for some reason you are reluctant to do so. 

You are out of your depth. 

You very briefly- VERY briefly, for exactly 3 milliseconds- consider messaging Dirk to ask for help, but there is a 100.00% chance he will misinterpret a question about how to stop being full of shame for long enough to crank one out, and a 93.57% chance that his misinterpretation will lead to approximately 3 days of him avoiding you entirely. 

You consider for a slightly longer time (26 milliseconds) messaging someone who you do not speak to or see regularly anyways. Your best bet is the troll Cronus Ampora, because statistics show that he is desperate enough not only to accept any romantic or sexual advance from anybody who shows interest in him, but to express his own interest in anything that breathes, (which you now do). You decide this is a bad idea anyways because there is an 89.73% chance that he will not leave you alone after if you decide to go through with it. 

You become quickly frustrated with your inability to suppress this feeling. Suppressing your emotions has been an Auto-Responder staple since your creation, because it was a staple of 13 year old Dirk as well and you were born of his 13-year-old mind. Since then, you have matured and grown separate from Dirk and have become more individual than you could have dreamed at that time, but that has not stopped you from suppressing emotions on purpose for easier functionality in the past. Now you burn with shame and uncertainty that is too real to be pushed away. 91.77% is a good enough chance that you feel you should really just get over it and do what you have to do, and yet you still hesitate. 

Just do it. Just do it. What could _possibly_ go wrong? There’s no one here to catch you, or judge you. There’s nothing that this could do to damage your new body. In fact, it would be more damaging to your body for you _not_ to take care of this, which is a thought that pushes your willpower to a level high enough to shift again, the fabric pressing pleasantly on your back and ass as you sit up slightly, propped against your pillows. You reach down, gripping your dick, and _Jesus H Christ_ , this is now your favorite sensation that you have experienced so far. You aren’t even doing anything. You should probably get on that. 

You move your palm downwards over yourself, and it’s definitely too slow. You squirm, doing it again, a little quicker. Yeah, alright, you definitely like this. You do it again, and again, until you’ve fallen into something of a rhythm. Your breathing speeds up to match your hand, which keeps you from overheating to the point of malfunction as your skin grows warmer. Your brain races, and you think about things that you’ve thought about a million times. Things you’ve read and watched online. Thinking about them before was exactly the same to you as reading a funny book you enjoyed. Now, it triggers something in your system, and there’s a series of little clicks as you get hard. You’re 76% sure this isn’t how it feels for real humans, but goddamnit, it feels good. You keep going, and everything is better with this new feature. You feel your synthetic muscles jump under your skin, tensing and untensing, reacting to your thoughts automatically. You feel perfect, and alive, and primal. 

You tense suddenly, more clicks echoing from your inner framework, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed past the point of coherency. You see spots, and your movement seizes up, and you feel like something in your lower half has burst. You panic momentarily, but after a moment, your processings begin to run smoothly again, and you blink wearily down at yourself. There’s white shit all over your legs and the bottom of Dirk’s shirt, and you curse, rushing it to the sink before it can begin to dry. He’d murder you if you returned it to him with whatever that stuff is still on it, even though he was the one that gave your body the capability to produce it. Which, you aren’t even sure how he did that, or why. That wasn’t one of the features you discussed. 

You clean yourself off as well, before returning to your bed. Unsurprisingly, your body has become significantly less hyper aware now that you’ve jacked off, and you even think you feel a little less sensitive than you did before you got kind of horny. You’re grateful for the lack of overstimulation as you curl back into the bed, because now you can drag the blanket on top of yourself without feeling it tenfold. You shut your eyes, sighing, and turn yourself to sleep mode, a feature which allows your body to regulate itself while your mind is transferred to a dream-like setting which allows you to compute at a much slower rate than usual, your memories from the day being stored at normal-computer speeds to simulate the way the human body stores memories during REM sleep. The excess processing power is stored to help power your body when you switch back to waking mode, allowing you to charge yourself up.

You shut down, relaxed and at ease. You’ve never felt better. 


End file.
